


To Valentine Or Not To Valentine, That Is The Question

by EvoFTG



Series: The Lord and The Consort [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aurumshipping, Gender-Neutral Arceus, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Other, Pokephilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 10:22:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13702527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvoFTG/pseuds/EvoFTG
Summary: Walking down the streets in the days before Valentine has never felt so lonely for Ash Ketchum, especially since he is expecting a certain Legendary Pokemon to make its appearance.





	To Valentine Or Not To Valentine, That Is The Question

**Author's Note:**

> This works as a short prequel set about a few months before the events in Revisit.

Spring is in the air. 

They say that this is the season of love. It is easy to see why – in every corner and junction, there are couples walking under a shared umbrella, their hands intertwined; or giving each other kisses on the benches; or perhaps stop by an ice-cream parlour to take turns spooning a dash of parfait from the same tall glass they have bought together. The streets are changing their faces as well – flower and gift shops in particular receive more and more customers each day, fresh bouquets of flowers of every named kind arrive daily by the loads in the back of cars and flatbed trucks. Chocolates of various shapes and tastes become the line-up on the front of confectionery stores, the popular ones being heart-shaped. Most importantly, in every direction one turns his heads, banners and advertisements on every shop’s front is wishing people with everlasting love and to appreciate their loved ones on that special day. 

Honestly, to Ash Ketchum, springtime in the past is… not much different than summer or winter or fall except for the change in clothes and what kind of outdoor activities he can do. This time though… this time is different. This spring is as different a season as his eyes, which seem to notice every little details of the coming celebration. 

Spring, they say, is a season of love and for the first time, Ash wonders if he may join in the anticipation. 

_Of course not, stupid,_ snaps a voice in the back of his mind; his own, if a little more curt than a normal Ash would have sounded. 

With more regret than he would have liked, he realizes that his sceptic side has good reasons not to have his hopes up. In fact, he is not even sure if he _should_ be considering it in the first place. 

Valentine’s Day is a human thing and his suitor… is not. 

He should not expect human behaviours from a Pokémon, least of all one of the Legendary calibres. 

More importantly, he should be thinking if he even _wanted_ a Legendary Pokémon as a potential mate, _not_ jump straight into wondering what a Valentine would feel like with said Pokémon. That must have skipped five or six steps in the should-I-say-yes-or-no thinking process; a very dramatic jump because Ash has been having trouble to get past the what-the-hell-a-Legendary-Pokémon-really-wants-to-date-me. If Ash has been a drinker he would have liked to say that it was just a strange hangover dream or something, but he is very definitely not. 

He had heard fleeting gossips of humans being with Pokémon, certainly, and has not found himself in rejection of the idea. He has seen too much examples of sentience, of sapience, in the Pokémon he has met throughout the years. Without doubt, they are creatures capable of understanding the positions they are put in and equally capable of consent – there are humans more animals in manners than the Pokémon themselves. It does not come as too much of a shock (though it still feels very… surreal) when finding out that Pokémon harboured feelings for him. He may have managed it a bit better if he has been proposed by… well, something more down-to-Earth; he has lived for years without knowing whether the girl who has kissed him on the pier was Bianca or in fact a Latias in disguise, and is never bothered by the equal possibilities of his mysterious kisser being either one. 

However, Arceus – the Alpha Pokémon, the Master of the Creation Legends, _the Original One itself_ – is a wholly different matter and produces a wholly different shock in his systems. 

What would one say when Arceus comes down from wherever it lives ( _It is called the Hall of Origin,_ Arceus once corrected after Ash simply referred to it as ‘that place’ one too many times)? Any other person not named Ash Ketchum would have managed a better response than his “Um, hello,” when he found himself in the company of the Original One for the first time since the incident in Michina Town. 

That first private encounter was… five years ago, if Ash is not mistaken. 

For some reasons he cannot name or understand, that particular meeting was a hazy snippets of memories, its clarity changing with each attempt at recollections. Perhaps it was the surprise; but if it was so, he has more reasons to be shadowy concerning the meeting which took place about a half a year ago. Either way, Ash was – is still – happy to be its friend, thinking that he had become something of a substitute for a friend it has lost in Damos, intentionally or otherwise. Its visits were irregular, neither too frequent nor too scarce over that time, enough to remind him that he has made a very unusual friendship with a Pokémon most other people would have bowed to instead. 

Then, the half-a-year-ago-meeting happened; the critical question was shot. If inquiry is something solid and sharp, Ash would have found it sticking out of his chest and piercing right through his heart. Even Arceus was distressed – its emotions had become easier to read the more Ash spent time with it – by the heart-gripping shock which had caught him off-guard with the understanding of what was asked of him. 

_Will you, for all our differences, consider me as a mate?_ Arceus had asked (so very gently, as if Arceus had expected to be reacted with horror) and right away, Ash nearly screamed “No!” – or worse, insisted that Arceus must have made a bad joke. 

Ash is glad that he has not misspoken then. It was not the answer of his thinking self; his brain must have shut itself down to manage an immediate reply. It took a while before he re-gathered his wits enough to speak – not to give his answers, he was way too confused for any decision-making, but to confirm what his brain laboriously parsed. 

Arceus has confirmed that it was indeed as he thought; that he had neither misheard nor misunderstood, and it was indeed his hand that was asked in ‘marriage’. 

_Can you give me some time to think about it?_ He eventually asked, unable to trust himself with sound judgement that soon. His heart had not yet calmed then. 

_Take as long a time as you wish. I will wait for it,_ Arceus had replied; Ash remembered how he felt bad himself at the weariness he saw in the Legend’s gaze. _But in the end, give me an answer. Say yes or no and I will take what you give, but do not leave me hoping when there is no longer any._

Worse though was perhaps the submissiveness he saw in the Legendary Pokémon, of whom one of his most prominent memories then consisted of it being so enraged that it would have killed a town full of people and called itself content. It did not suit Arceus at all, this vulnerability, and knowing that he was the cause of it only made things more miserable. 

_Will I still be welcomed if I visit you again after this?_

Somehow, he had understood Arceus then. When it had asked this, Arceus had heard the ‘no’ teetering on his tongue before it was said. It wanted to but dared not wish for a reply other than that. 

_Yeah,_ he had said; felt his throat choked with sorrow that was not his, but potent enough to be empathized with. _Yeah, why not? You can come if you want._

Arceus has made good on its words since. The visits still come and Ash has not felt any less welcoming to its presence, but something nevertheless changes between them. There is a new carefulness in its manner as if fearing an overstepped boundary whose line it cannot see. On the other hand, Ash takes on the opposite route – becoming bolder and more curious even if he himself does not notice it at first. He has taken to sitting closer whenever they settled down and talked; it did not occur to him that his closeness was a new experience to Arceus until it shuddered, ever so slightly, when Ash finally rested his shoulders against its front limbs on one cool night. He asked and answered questions equally, instead of being for the most time a listener as it has been before. Sometimes, they talked of pointless stuffs which had no bearing whatsoever on their lives, enjoying simply the sounds of their talking voices; other times, they did not talk at all and the silence was serene rather than awkward. He even learnt not to fear teasing once in a while, and expected no comeuppance for this bravery. 

In the course of these, Ash does not notice when the thought of being in a relationship more intimate than as friends with a Legendary Pokémon loses its bleak heaviness. 

His brain begins to wander in paths he has not known existed – or dares not explore – before. He has now seen Arceus in its gentleness, and he longs to see more of this side which Damos has had the privilege to enjoy. When he rests his hand on its side, Ash begins to imagine what it would have felt like if he touches Arceus some other places – the legs are all bones-and-sinews hard, the neck powerfully muscled, but what of other parts of it? 

As it is, sex becomes one of the last puzzling pieces that his mind addresses when it might have been one of the first questions that pop into other people’s mind. He has wondered about it aloud to Arceus in their last meeting (can it be considered a date now, if he tells himself that they are now in that girl/boyfriend stage?) but Arceus was… not as cooperative. 

_I have every intention to consummate our relationship, if that is what you were asking,_ it answered; its face turned away from him at that moment so Ash could not tell what kind of expression it had on its face. _That is, if you are consenting to it. However, I wish we do not have to talk about this just yet._

_But why?_ His face burned but Ash also found that he wanted to ask more, so much more. 

_It is too much for me now. Please, ask me again another time. I will try to accommodate you better then._

_That’s not fair!_ He had retorted but had also taken pity in its fidgeting (its ears had swivelled so restlessly; he has learnt it to be a very good indication of how uncomfortable Arceus is feeling at the moment) and had steered their conversation into something more manageable. 

And so, that particular subject remains a riddle to him to this day. Still, at the very least, he now knows that Arceus does not only intend for them to be connected only in names, though for the life of him he cannot figure out realistically how this can be achieved between a man and… a Pokémon whose gender he cannot tell for sure. 

What if the needed anatomy do not match between them? Maybe sex involves altogether different activities for Legendary Pokémon? 

It does not stop his mind from being creative once the subject is brought up. Though by day he continues on normally, at night, as he lies awake for the few silent minutes before sleep takes hold, his wandering mind inevitably strays to the Original One. His thoughts then will become less peaceful, ideas of becoming its husband/wife/whatever is turned round and round in his head like a Ferris Wheel gone crazy until his brain throbs in protest. 

…And that is when his dreams (already occasionally involve Arceus somewhere) take a drastic turn. 

Nothing is too clear and often times he wakes up from one and desperately tries to remember what exactly entails, but Ash is left astonished by the sweats and heat his body gives, sitting in half-darkness of his bedroom with a semi-erection which refuses to abate without… well, some help of his own. It is frightening. It is even a little creepy if he thinks too much of it. Not to mention embarrassing – finding himself half-hard from a wet dream is already awkward on its own, which is why he is always grateful that Pikachu has the tact to ignore him and continue sleeping as he rushes to the bathroom in the middle of the night. 

He also finds the prospect _massively_ inviting. 

_“Pika-pi!”_

Speaking of which… 

“You like something, Pikachu?” 

Pikachu, having sat comfortably on his shoulder all these while, perks up suddenly and stares at something somewhere to his left. Ash follows his gaze, where in a corner of the street, a vendor with Poffins and Pokéblocks of various colours are arrayed on a small display rack. The smell wafting from the stall is delicious enough to made people come to it unbidden. Perhaps that is exactly why he makes his trades have such inviting smell. 

“Hello there, Trainer!” The man greets once he notices the Ketchum coming his way. “Come, come! We’ve had Pokéblocks and Poffins for all your needs! Made from the best quality of berries out there! Even humans love it!” 

Ash approaches the man and peers at the selection. Poffins and Pokéblocks are not as difficult to obtain now compared to a few years ago but they are still less common in Kanto and Johto. There are indeed a lot to pick from, varying in colours and shapes and flavours, but what attracts him are the love-themed ones; he rarely sees those out of the season. 

“Ah, you’ve got good taste, my friend!” Grinning widely, he pulls out a tray of Poffins labelled Valentine’s Specials which is arranged from end to end in red, pink and chocolate-coloured Poffins, in the heart, Pidove and even Luvdisc shapes. “You can give’em to your Pikachu – or even better, you can give’em to your Pikachu’s lady-friend!” 

“Um –” 

“They can be gifts to _your_ lady-friend too, y’know! She’ll appreciate a gift for her ‘mon just as much as for her!” 

“Well, it’s really up to Pikachu actually.” 

He nudges Pikachu to disembark his shoulder for a closer look and makes his choice. The electric rodent scampers back and forth along the small space at the front of the stall, sniffing and viewing each of the trays displayed while the seller continues to describe each of the treats’ attributes. After a few minutes and a couple of rounds running, looking and smelling, Pikachu at last settles on a golden, buttery Poffins with a scattering of pink on top. Ash asks for a batch of dozen of this and pays the Pokédollars for it; but before he can leave, Pikachu tugs at his sleeve and points to the tray of Valentine Poffins. 

“Oh, you got someone in mind?” He opens his mouth to buy the Poffins but Pikachu head-butts him, a little too hard, on his cheek. 

“What?” 

Pikachu chirps pointedly, then jumps to the floor. He stretches his neck out and smooths his fur there, making it appears unusually slender; Pikachu falls on all four and begins to prance around, making a big fuss on the fact that he does so on his digits rather than using his whole paws. His head is held high and proud, the ears brought close together until they appear like a single extension that flows with his long strides. 

All in all, inevitable physical differences aside, Pikachu makes a pretty recognizable imitation of… Arceus. 

Ash glances at the Poffins, then back to Pikarceus, then back to the Poffins, his mind making a slow connection between them… 

“Um –” 

“Oh, it’s a Ponyta, isn’t it?” The seller exclaims, drawing temporary attention from passers-by to them both. Fortunately for him, none takes further notice than the startled glance and continues about their businesses. 

In a more controlled volume, the seller ventures with a gleeful smile on his face, “Your Pikachu got his eyes on some nice lady-Ponyta, isn’t it? He aims big, I’ll tell you that!” 

On the floor, Pikachu is giggling unabashedly at his incredulity; he might have laughed as well if he has a mirror to look at his own _huh?_ face in that moment. Luckily for Ash, the vendor is oblivious to the Trainer’s confusion and is more interested in the Pokémon whose ‘laughs’ he has taken as a sign that his guess has hit a bulls-eye rather than the other way round. 

When Ash eventually leaves the Poffin-and-Pokéblock stall and his grinning keeper a few minutes later, he does so with half a dozen more Poffins than intended – the man has insisted him buying the Valentine ones, and is kind enough to give him a half-price discount for his trouble. Munching at his Poffins, Pikachu has not yet relented on Ash’s tongue-tiedness and nudges his cheek every now and then, spilling Poffin crumbs on his shoulder. 

“You know, I don’t even know when Arceus is coming – if it does at all. These Poffins will go bad long before then.” 

Saying this out loud, Ash notices that there is a quiet disappointment lurking somewhere in the back of his mind finally comes out of hiding. Though he is not much of a romantic guy (read: not at all), Ash still loves celebration for the sake of celebration, for the chance to just get together and have fun and perhaps to meet new friend-potentials. Just to have Arceus joins him for once makes for a good idea to turn around in his head… 

_But of course,_ a sharp tone interrupts this flow of thoughts; his sceptic side has made a successful return, _I can’t expect Arceus to come. If it does, it might not be interested at all. I don’t even know if Arceus can eat!_

Yep, he has just thrown off his money into useless Poffins… 

For all his berating and self-scolding and re-evaluating, the ache remains. 

He had felt this chest-gripping thing before. He felt it for every one of his friends whom by chance or design is parted from him. He cannot possibly begrudge their leaving when others have greater need of them or for other reasons altogether. Nevertheless, it strikes him with the same intensity no matter how many times he has experienced it – when he gave up Squirtle, Lapras, Charizard, when Misty decides to leave their little travelling group, then May, Brock… 

(Serena’s face suddenly comes to mind, her laughter and spirited disposition, her mischievously twinkling eyes, her playful touches and sweet smile…) 

…and now, the ache is shared, greater than ever, when he imagines the vaguely cervine body, a hide of silky white fur and the long neck, a piercing gaze from a pair of inhuman eyes, the voice which speaks without mouth, golden highlights and speckles of green gems breaking the thematic white of its form… 

The way his life has been going the moment he steps out of his house ten years ago, of course he should have expected that this is a normal flow to the weird paths his life has taken. Missing his first Pokémon’s pick and get shocked by a Pokéball-hating Pikachu who turns out to be his best buddy, swarmed by murderous Spearow and meeting fried-bicycle-owning-Misty, losing his pace constantly to Gary Oak, making friends with the then-Gym-leading-Brock… the list goes on and on over the regions he has travelled, the experiences running the gamut from whimsical to horrifying. 

_Of course_ Ash is going to end up wandering the street before Valentine Day and wondering if he is going to see his Pokémon maybe-lover. It is just a cherry on top of a psychedelic cake that is his life. 

“These Poffins aren’t going to make it,” Ash repeats, whether to himself or to Pikachu does not really matter at the moment. His silence has been too long, his thoughts too muddled together to be worth entertaining. 

_“Pikachu?”_

He smiles back at the electric rodent, noticing the frown and the worried tone in its inquiring noise. With one hand unoccupied with Poffin-carrying, he strokes the head of his Pokémon affectionately. 

“Nothing to worry about, I’m fine.” He looks down at the extra plastic of Valentine Poffins and the idea hits him. “You’ve had more Poffins than you can eat already. I say we best not to waste these.” 

Pikachu has the grace to looks abashed and hurriedly brushes the Poffin-crumbs off his shoulder. All the same, he makes an agreeing _Pika_ when Ash explains what he intends to do with the Valentine Poffins, which is at least one less problem for Ash to think about. The Daycare is not too far away from where they are now and the Pokémon there undoubtedly will appreciate the gifts of some delicious treats. 

  


* * * * *

  


Valentine Day comes and goes just like any other day, unmarked and only mildly remembered simply because all the people around him make a big fuss of the celebration. 

The whole week passes in the same manner actually and only by the end of the second week that Ash discovers the golden pendant-like thing with an emerald set in the centre lying innocently on his desk. To be really accurate though, it is Pikachu who first noticed the out-of-place gleam, the late sunlight streaming through the windows being reflected and refracted in the green gem making a mini light-show on his desk. The jewellery crumbles to dust in just a few seconds Ash holds it in his palm though its vanishing concerns him less than what its brief presence signifies. 

Its creator is nearby and waiting for him. 

It has been a rather busy day at Prof. Oak’s lab where he has taken upon himself for some volunteer works. Never someone to sit still for long, Ash has been training ever more vigorously when his help is not required there, his eyes set on the distant Sinnoh and its standing Champion, Cynthia. However, all thoughts on Pokémon battles and the League he has made as his newest goal take a back seat as he hurries out of his house and into the mini-forest a few minutes’ running distance from where he lives, Pikachu leading a few steps ahead of him. 

Dusk is just a few minutes away by the time he and Pikachu arrives at the mouth of the barely-there track leading ever deeper into the forest that, with the coming of the night, seems so much more foreboding than it is in daylight. Still, Ash plunges into the rows of tall trees without a moment’s hesitation, the thought of what lies at the end spurring him on and assured by his own familiarity with the winding paths – it has been far too many times over the five years that his feet has treaded upon its dirt. The occasional sparks emitted as Pikachu’s static-charged body brushes against the grass-blades in his passing provide Ash additional guide in the deepening darkness until he arrives at a glade deep in the middle of the forest, near enough to the base of a nearby hill for the area be cast in the late sun’s shadows. 

In the centre of this clearing is a rocky outcropping – a massive and lonely granite piece, seemingly out of place there being surrounded by the green carpeting of grass and walled in by the mighty beeches and oaks that ring the little glade. Beside this already incongruent slab of stone, a form even more conspicuous than the rest of its surrounding stands in seemingly unshakeable patience, snow-white against the dark grey boulder and the shadow it forms – 

“Arceus!” He instinctively calls out and the long neck bent down in greeting of his faster Pikachu, straightens up. 

Red-pupilled eyes brighten when it identifies the young man running out from between the trees and the golden wheel about its flank blazes with tongues of golden aura. The dusk-cooled air inexplicably warms up as if summer has decided to hasten its arrival and night has been wholly skipped to the next day. There is no discernible mouth for a smile to be visible on its face but by all these signs, Ash knows that his happiness in seeing the Alpha Legend is not one-sided. 

_-Ash,_ a voice heard both in his mind and ears rumbles; equal parts normal and mythical, as feminine as it is masculine, and Ash misses hearing it in all its peculiar wonders. _-Greetings to you as well._

He walks right up to it, feeling inexplicably conscious of his own dwarfed stature when he stands beside it as if he is an unassuming little Weedle beside a Steelix; the leg alone is at least twice his height. Of course, by no stretch of imagination is he comparable to the Alpha Pokémon in many aspects, size-wise least of all, but at the moment he is just happy that there is Arceus at all for him to be towered over. He reaches a hand to the knee of its front right leg in welcome though the moment his fingers touch the other, the whole limb bends; its left twin is folding itself as well, bringing the Legend’s massive bulk to the ground chest-first. The back legs follow suit until Arceus is comfortably settled on the ground while somehow managing to arrange its posture to accommodate the spokes of its flank-wheel. 

Roughly level as they are now, Arceus goes further and carefully brushes its gold-trimmed forehead against Ash’s cheek in a greeting of its own fashion. 

_-I am glad that you can come,_ it murmurs into his ear, sending involuntary shivers down his spine at the trailing purr in it. _-I miss you so, Ash._

“Yeah, about time too.” It has a taste of accusation to it, small though it is, and Ash frowns at his own unexpected ingratitude. Even Pikachu, used to Ash’s brashness as he is – it has faded through his growth but never entirely vanishes – is startled minutely at the too-hard-tone, though just as quickly he casts off the shock to sidle up to the Trainer and nudges his ribs reassuringly. 

Arceus watches the Trainer silently as he, taking courage from his Pikachu’s encouragement, approaches the Legend, then shifts its gaze to the movement of his hand, following it faithfully until it lays on the spike of its great shoulder, fingers gently scratching the hardness of bone hiding underneath the soft pelt. No sudden movement interrupts his touch this time. 

_-I have gone for some time, yes._ It is said without reproach, merely unfortunate truth. 

“I understand.” This is truth as well. Ash is glad that the bitterness is now gone; none of them deserves the ache and that they are nevertheless here together is worth all the patience. 

After a moment of reflective quiet, both of them find themselves speaking: 

“I’m sorry –” 

_-Forgive my –_

Another silence, stunned this time at their accidental coordination. After a few blinks followed by more silence, Arceus prods the Trainer’s shoulder coaxingly, goading Ash to take the lead. 

“Yeah… sorry. I guess I’m just… I don’t know, surprised. I wasn’t expecting to see that brooch on my desk today.” 

His chest is tight, filled with something unseen and unknown. It is not until he heaves his next breath that he realizes that it is, in fact, relief. Ash has forgotten the glum creeping into his mind when the emerald-and-gold brooch – Arceus’ temporary creation solely to signify its presence on Earth and that Ash is free to come to it then – failed to materialize day after day. To have it all unknotted at one go, with just this sight of Arceus, is… liberating, to say the least. 

“What I’m saying is: I’m just glad that you’re here.” 

_-And I have not said it enough times: I miss you, Ash._

It is in the soft, quietly content tone, like finding the bed after a long, tiring day, the cool shade during the hot summer afternoon, the rain after drought, a chilled drink down a hot and thirsty throat – vocal manifestation of comfort found after a long toil. Whatever it is that Arceus is doing out there, far beyond human reach and out in the vastness that his mind cannot even begin to grasp, Ash takes his pride in being the Legend’s repose for whatever he is worth. Better something than nothing at all. 

Arceus does not seem keen on moving, allowing only the swell of its sides in breathing while Ash, half-amused and half-confused, strokes the side of the head shoved to his chest. It is Ash who is usually the touchy-feely one, not Arceus who is more inclined to accepting what is given. There is also the _humming_ – it vibrates through his being, both physical and mental, as if he is an instrument whose strings are plucked, the music being this strange, happy, fulfilling sensations of being wanted. 

Maybe he should do something more than just… 

Perhaps testament just how clueless Ash is when it comes to scenario like this, he glances at Pikachu – now curled quietly and unobtrusively beside the rock – and receives a cheeky grin for his trouble. 

Well, no help from _him_ then. 

Left as it is, Ash may have contented himself with the silence and the stroking if Pikachu has not decided to intervene then, quite out of the blue. From his spot, the Pokémon utters a series of pika’s and chu’s, to which Arceus gently and ever-so-slightly pries away from his hand to listen to whatever meaning is conveyed by the electric rodent, its long white ears cocked forward in interest. 

_-I am understood,_ Arceus says abruptly, breaking the silence which Pikachu has left in the wake of his last pika’s, _-that I have missed a particular Earthly celebration?_

Ash starts only after he realizes what the Original One is alluding. His cheeks warm against his will, the tips of his ears burning unpleasantly. His eyes actually sting with the efforts of preventing himself from rolling his eyes or giving a glare at the unabashedly amused Pikachu. “Oh – Oh, yeah. Valentine’s Day, that’s two weeks ago.” 

Shame finds Ash fresh for the taking after being submerged for long (after he _does_ give Pikachu a why-are-you-doing-this look). To be honest, Ash does not really expect to see Arceus for the celebration per se but it would have been a reasonable stretch of time between its last visit and Valentine’s Day, delayed even, for it has been well over two months since he last saw the Legendary Pokémon then – or so he thought then. Ash has no idea what has possessed him when they never have truly fixed schedule anyway; Arceus comes on its own terms, that being about every fortnight or so while Ash waits for the tell-tale appearance of the brooch. 

His regret at the missed opportunity, long since buried, nevertheless shames him for ever existing in the first place. 

Perhaps sensing the onset of self-guilt, Arceus carefully nudges his chin up with its forehead and backs away only far enough to enable its gazing into his eyes. Trying to hold himself still, Ash loses the battle anyway after just a few seconds and ducks his face into the fur on its forearm for some sense of solidity. Arceus’ eyes can be difficult to look into at times, at worst making him feel like being pulled into pools of swirling depth that stretches on and on, drowning in a universe of unknown… 

_Really, Arceus should have remembered this by now,_ he bemoans as his head pounds with momentary vertigo. 

A soft budge to his shoulder and even softer whisper: 

_-Other than Michinian festivities, I am not usually accustomed to Earthly many celebrations._

Ash cannot quite make out if it is an explanation or an apology. Perhaps neither does Arceus. 

“It doesn’t matter.” There are occasionally dissatisfactions, products of his human faults married to Arceus’ inhumanness, but they are all fleeting. When it comes down to it, Ash gladly accepts what he can take. Valentine’s Day is just a name for a certain date after all. 

_-But it will make you happy._

_“You_ make me happy,” he corrects, maybe with a touch of disapproval in it. “You being here, right now. That’s what counts.” 

Funny to think that his mentality has quietly and smoothly moves on from worrying about what answer to give to a Legend’s proposal to actually conforming to situations when he _does_ accept the offer… but it feels so natural and, rather than be freaked out by it, Ash is actually glad for the easy transition without blowing a fuse or two in his mind in the process. 

Some shifting happens under his hand but too slight to cast his touch off entirely. When his fingers find again the warm flesh, it is that on Arceus’ neck. The fatigue of stillness does not affect the Original One easily – weeks of unmoving meditation is an easy matter to it – and the movement is technically unnecessary. Arceus does not fidget easily either but these days, perhaps learning the finer nuances of human expressions, the Pokémon is nevertheless influenced. 

Compared to the almost-mechanical, deliberate movements during their earlier days, Arceus has become warmer, more animated, more… human. 

_-It is not in accordance to this Valentine’s Day, for I did not have it in mind when I prepared it,_ Arceus ventures, curiously halting, as if what it intends may end up wildly off mark when implemented in reality, _-but I_ have _brought a gift with me._

“Yeah?” 

_-Yes. Here._

For a few brief moments, Ash is reminded of Arceus’ devastative Judgment because the ball of light emerging to float an inch or so above its forehead is too similar in look with the precursor of the attack. That reminder is not enough to turn into fear however, and he watches, fascinated instead, as the light brighten, swells and finally resolves itself into – 

His hands extend out reflexively as the light fades and a tall glass bottle comes to rest in his palm, warm and filled almost to the brim with a thick, golden liquid not unlike honey, if a little darker in hue and glows faintly to boot. The mouth of it is stoppered with a cork; nevertheless, a sweet and sugary smell like maple syrup which he always adds in generous amount to his usually-pancakes-breakfast can be faintly sniffed if Ash concentrates hard enough. All the while, Arceus is observing him as intensely as Ash does its gift as if waiting for his verdict. 

He turns it around and the liquid flows heavily inside the bottle. On closer look, succulent-looking pulps of red and orange are suspended throughout though Ash cannot identify what they are. He gestures for Pikachu to come and inspect it but the Pokémon is just as clueless as his Trainer after much sniffing, staring and paw-poking. 

“It’s honey – or maple syrup.” 

_-Close, but no. That is Ambrosia._

“Um…” He had heard the term before but isn’t that a name for some kind of flower? So… “It’s nectar from Ambrosia?” 

_-Interesting assumption, but again, no. It is not made from the flower of the same name, if that is your inspiration._

“Alright, I give up. What is it?” It still looks very much like honey in Ash’s opinion no matter in what angles he peers at it. 

_-It is an extract of berries and fruits from my garden, fermented and distilled –_ Arceus stops speaking with an air of someone who is sheepish after finding how long and thoroughly he has babbled about his interest. _-I did not prepare them often for I seldom want to eat, nor do I need the benefits it gives. However, a mouthful can keep travellers on their feet for days and it will not spoil for years to come. It will help you in your journeys._

Ash looks thoughtfully at the bottle, swirls the content around and taps at the glass in random patterns. 

_-…That is, if you care to accept it._

It is obviously a choice to keep or to reject it, and equally obvious which outcome Arceus is hoping. As if Ash would have answered otherwise to an offer from the Original One even if it happens to be a piece chipped off its golden hoof (Can that even be possible?). 

“No, no – Of course I accept. It’s just… you _made_ this?” 

_-It has taken a while, and I have abandoned the art for so long I have nearly forgotten…_

“And you made it again,” Ash continues, suddenly finding the bottle weightier than just the mass of Ambrosia it contains. “…for me?” is added a lot more quietly, not wanting to sound self-centred. 

_-It is not terribly difficult,_ Arceus adds. If Ash has not spent the last few years talking with it, he may not have noticed the oddly tentative air about the Legendary Pokémon. _-But I have to be very careful not to diminish its nourishments or offset the taste._

Arceus may have said that it is not a Valentine’s gift but shouldn’t he give something in return, for the simple sake of returning the Legend’s goodwill? He is still very happy at the present but the airy-fairy feeling of it begins to fade in the presence of the coiling uneasiness in his belly, feeling like he fails yet again to observe a simple or basic rule. 

“Um, Arceus, I don’t have anything to give back…” How should he have known that Arceus is coming with a gift to prepare something beforehand? Just as he always does when stuck, Ash falls to his old standby and decides to improvise. “Is there something you want – or – or something I can do for you?” 

_-Nothing that you have not already given to me, Ash._

There is a faintest trace of longing which Arceus must have struggled to keep out of, and shamefully it evades Ash’s eyes when it realizes that its efforts have not succeeded. His heart suddenly leaps into his throat, choking him with jumbled words that struggle to get out but instead coming out only as a pitiful squeak. He may have felt the inclination, and a very strong one at that, but it is an entirely different matter to say it definitively and pass well beyond the point of no return once he gives his answer. 

_Say_ yes _or_ no _and I will take what you give…_ Ash closes his eyes, feeling the unseen weight of Arceus’ anticipation in remembering that particular plea. Yes, _plea;_ there is no other way to describe the tone and the look on the Legend when it was uttered. 

_But here? Right now?_

Something hard and warm, something that Ash is sure to be the metal on its forehead if he has to guess, gently bumps the Ketchum out of his reminiscence with a brush on his cheek. When Ash makes himself look into its eyes, they are neither pitying nor demanding. 

_-Say nothing that you do not want,_ Arceus says firmly but not unkindly, its voice very definitely present instead of being ghostly echoes from his memories. _-I’ve promised you time and time I will give._

“But –” 

_-You owe nothing unless you are ready. I am well satisfied with what I CAN have now,_ Arceus amends, then lowers its head to tap the Ambrosia bottle with the point of its forehead. _-Consider this a token of appreciation for the joy you have already brought me._

“Arceus, I’m… I’m sorry.” 

_-You shouldn’t be._ There is a smile in these words, soothing and affectionate like the touch of a mother on her distressed child. 

This is another aspect of Arceus Ash cannot wrap his mind around, how effortlessly the Legend switches between the many, many possible roles it can take on a dime. At the moment though, Ash is glad for its capability to do so – Arceus sees no reason to gloss over its feelings and hope but it will neither have Ash forced into making any decision whatsoever. What Arceus has allowed Ash to see of itself is only evidence of its honesty, not a trapping pressure which leaves him no space to breathe. 

Perhaps… perhaps these are one of the reasons why Ash finds himself appealed to the Original One; that a creature so unfathomably ancient, with power to have bent others effortlessly to its will, deign itself to submit to the limits of others. If Ash is not supposed to feel honoured when put in this position, he does not know exactly what else he should have felt. 

And of course, there is still the bottleful of (Arceus-made) Ambrosia which he weighs between his hands dreamily. 

“…Arceus, I – thanks.” _Thanks_ doesn’t even begin to cover the warm, fluttery feeling of pleasant shock in his chest and stomach which Pikachu helps heap on with the knowing prods to his ribs. He could have received a mountain of gifts for every year of his life and nothing will compare to the one he has just received. “And this – this Ambrosia… thingy. I don’t know how to say this but – wow. I mean, thanks so very much, it’s very – wow.” 

Ash may have _wowed_ a few hundred times before he can express his feelings more coherently but his stumbling is cut short by the soft golden glow of Arceus’ flank-wheel. Ash perceives some sort of contentment in it and, even more prominently, great joy that would have left him giddy and jumping around if this has been his own feeling. Not to say that he is not happy himself – in fact, he cannot have supplied his words any better than what he already attempted, and so gets up and hugs the Alpha’s neck as best as he can. 

Arceus glows even brighter at the contact and his chest feels like it is swelling along the Legend’s growing radiance. Drawing away is something he forces himself to make, and even then he is still reluctant to do so entirely and leaves his hand instead on its shoulder. 

“So, is this why you’re late this time? Because you were making this?” 

_-Partly. I was also preoccupied elsewhere and it has cost me much time and effort._ Arceus’ glow is fading, though like Ash, it seems that this too is done hesitantly. _-Still, I have tried to make the best of what time was available to me. I hope you will find it acceptable, nevertheless._

“Oh, I _know_ I love it.” 

Gingerly settling the Ambrosia-filled bottle on the grass where Pikachu takes over to look at, Ash makes himself comfortable in the warm nook just behind Arceus’ foreleg and body, a spot which he has rapidly taken as his favourite, and begins to tell the Original One the story about a certain someone who has blown his money on a dozen of wasted Poffins which _that certain someone_ has no use for in the first place while Pikachu surreptiously casts him a knowing glance every now and then. 

Other people can have their Valentine on that one day for every year for all he cares; Ash’s comes whenever he sees the gold-and-emerald brooch left for him. And maybe (Ash will venture to say _very_ likely from the way his heart and stomach just cannot stop from fluttering around), as thing goes the way it is now, he may be answering yes to the question asked of him half a year ago in the next meeting they have… 

…and Ash – grinning like an Attract-struck guy he almost is into the silky fur on the Legend’s shoulder as he finishes his Poffin tale – is perfectly fine with that thought.


End file.
